Page 11 of Those Two Words

The memories leave my jaw aching from how hard I’m grinding my teeth together. I try not to think about one day in particular, but as always, fail miserably. I acted on impulse, allowed my emotions and bruised heart to lead me, and I saw something I didn’t want to see. And it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Weeks later, I was in an even worse state. I lost myself in the restaurant and was working over sixty-hour weeks. My family dealt with the loss of Dad in their own way, but I knew they saw the additional loss I was carrying. For whatever reason, they knew better than to ask.

Only my best friend, Dex, called time-out on my pity party when he saw I was practically dead on my feet and losing weight. Deciding I needed a change of scenery, he took me out for a few drinks in Jacob’s Bluff, rather than our usual drinking hole, Shirley’s. Only a few turned into too many. I wasn’t blackout drunk, but it was enough for me to reveal all to Dex as I held back the tears in the middle of the bar. I don’t remember much after that. I do remember meeting Carrie and going home with her.

The guilt of that night was acidic, eating me from the inside out. Betrayal and hurt still riddled my mind and heart from the loss of Jo, but never in my life did I see myself trying to get over it like that. We weren’t official, but it still felt like cheating. I’d somehow convinced myself that everything I saw was a mistake and perhaps if I tried to reach out to Jo again, she could explain it all as a complete misunderstanding.I just needed to get my head straight first before contacting her.

Only I never got that chance, because a few weeks later, Carrie called me out of the blue asking to meet up. I wasn’t proud of the night we spent together and wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone. Probably because I still held out hope Jo would realize she belonged in Sutton Bay with me.

When Carrie told me she was pregnant, my world was flipped upside down. I didn’t forget about Jo—that’s a skill I will never be able to master—but I knew I had to show up for Carrie and the baby we were now expecting. It didn’t feel right to reach out to Jo, and guilt still ate away at me. It might not have been planned, but the idea of becoming a father felt so right. After weeks of heartache, the unexpected news brought light and happiness to my family and me. And the loss of my dad and Jo hurt a little less as each day passed.

Two months before Lottie came into the world, I received a text that answered all the self-doubting questions that had been running rampant in my mind for months.

I guess you’re done waiting. Don’t worry about me, I’m not your problem anymore.Now I know why your calls stopped.

It took all my willpower not to pick up the phone and demand answers from her. To tell her she was my problem and I’d never been done waiting. She was the one who had clearly moved on.

I knew nothing good would come from making that call or responding to that text. What I wanted wasn’t a priority anymore, because I had to step up and put my past behind me. That was the last time we spoke, and before I knew it, I was the father of a little girl. She was the one thing that now held all my attention and love. The moment my eyes fell on my daughter, nothing else mattered. Everything I did was for her.

Only after seeing Johanna Thomas for the first time in years, two things are clear.

The burns from her leaving never fully healed.

And she still lights me up like no woman ever has.

I might not like what my mom and George are proposing, but I won’t let my damaged pride get in the way of working together to save the restaurant. If I don’t do it for myself, I’ll do it for my dad.

As I struggle to fall asleep, I forget about Graham’s warnings to be careful. Because when sleep finally finds me, I dream of a woman with golden-blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

The only difference between the woman in my dreams and the one I saw today is their smile.

Because the smile I remember rivaled the sun. The one I saw today was fake and dulled.

And I wish I didn’t care so much to find out why.

six

JOHANNA

I huff out a breath as I finally squeeze the last of my clothing into the small walk-in closet.

My first week back in town has gone much quicker and better than I anticipated. I managed to secure a three-month lease on a one-bedroom apartment above the new bakery on Robin Road. Unlimited iced coffee and pastries at my doorstep? Say less. When my dad helped me drive over some of my old things from the house this morning, the smell of fresh bread and coffee was the first thing to greet us.

I couldn’t believe my luck, and while I’ve loved spending time with my dad, at thirty-three years old, staying in your childhood room doesn’t scream I have my shit together. I was surprised to find out the entire building was owned by Martin Willis, the town’s produce supplier, and was even more surprised he gave me such a good deal. Growing up, the man was known as the town’s pariah, always standoffish and blunt, but he seemed quite happy to rent out the apartment to me.

The closet looks like it’s ready to bust open and I have to shove my shoulder against the door to shut it securely. Once everything is unpacked, I walk into the open living space and look around my new home. The apartment has a small bathroom, and the kitchen, living, and dining areas are open plan. Looking out of the window, I take in the warm glow from the streetlights below, spotlighting the piles of slowly melting snow. I make a mental note to add a couple of plants to my online shopping cart, knowing they’ll look cute on the windowsill and get plenty of sunlight.

While this move didn’t feel impulsive at first, it sure as hell does now. Less than two weeks ago, I was living with Harriet, working the same job and living a quiet life, with no clue what was on the horizon.

This whole week deserves a little celebration, so I pour myself a hearty glass of sauvignon blanc, make up a small plate of cheese and crackers, and sit on the floor with my back against the small sectional the apartment came with.

I unbox one of my new jigsaw puzzles and tip the pieces out on the hardwood floor in front of me. This one is of Paris skyline. As I set aside the outside pieces, my mind wanders to this week’s events.

I knew my return would prompt some chatter among the locals, but most people have greeted me with a smile or asked how Harriet and I were. The unease of seeing everyone slowly disappeared as the week progressed. It came roaring back on Thursday when I was running some errands for my dad and ran into Mrs. Stewart—one of the town council members and local busybody. When she realized it was me, she spent a long time examining me before shaking her head slowly, tsking, and walking away.

I abandoned the items in my cart and called Harriet from my car, who helped calm me down. Her parting words were, “Tell that old bird to stick her judgy eyes where the sun don’t shine next time.” She has a special way with words even outside of songwriting.

The next day, I spent my first online therapy session overthinking every single interaction I had so far, convinced people were judging me for leaving and abandoning my dad and the Sadlers during their time of need. Amanda reminded me that people don’t know the full story and will make their own assumptions about why I left—I just wish they wouldn’t presume I did it happily—and I get to decide who and when I tell people. It’s my story to tell, but in that moment, the shame and fear I used to feel about people finding out the truth started to show its ugly face.

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